Someone stole my hour. I don’t know how and I don’t know why, I just know that it was there when I went to bed last night, tucked away safe, and then this morning when I woke up…I just. I just felt deep in my loins (GROSS) that something was temporally amiss. That something wicked had transpired during the night. Sure enough my loin empathy (Why does that sound like I have small genitals? Why am I talking about genitals?) was dead on (innuendo?), someone had indeed crept in and absconded with a single hour of my time.
I can hear the hecklers already primping their feathers from the back of the bleachers: “Big deal it’s only an hour.” “Get over it.” “I heard you slept with a baby goat.” To them I say: “How dare you reduce this heinous crime to such triviality! And that last part was never actually confirmed by the authorities…” Sure it may seem like such an insignificant amount of time…but that’s not the point. It’s not the fakt that it is only one missing hour, it’s the fakt that someone took it from me without my permission. I have been struck down by temporal theft (not to be confused with temporary theft, which is where you loan someone a book and then you don’t see them for years and then they give you the book back but because it’s been such a long intermission between meetings you’ve assumed the book lost, re-purchased it and now have two copies and look like a fuckwit) and I demand justice. Or coffee. Or both. Yes. Both!
The thing that makes this truly frightening though (beyond the fakt that someone has figured out how to steal time) is that this is not the first time my hour has been stolen. Oh no. This is not just a one-off event. After sitting down to ponder this predicament, I realised that I have had hours stolen from me before. In fakt as far back as I can remember, time has gone missing from my person…which means…there are 21 hours of my life missing. That’s almost a day! An entire day…gone. Sure, if I was totally honest, I’ve probably wasted more than single days doing pointless things (like this)…but that was at my own volition. I can waste my time. Anonymous physic bandits cannot.
Essentially this disturbing turn of events has left me in a daze of anger, confusion and mild aphasia. Now I’m grumpy (a word which doesn’t sound like what it means but conjures to mind, instead, images of mountains made of felt) and have decided to tread the path that many grumpy people, with access to a computer, have tread before me. I am going to vent my anger and grumpiness in list form for all of the Internet to see. Because it’s clearly a productive thing to do with the little time I have left. And after auditing my own blog I realised that I seemed to have neglected the List-O-Mania category for a while and thought now would be a good time to bring it back into use because everyone loves lists and everyone loves lists even more when they are full of things that irritate said list maker. Yes I am about to go on a rant. Brace yourself…it’s going to be cathartic and probably make you hate me…a little. You know for whinging…which let’s face it is one of this countries favourite pastimes behind racism, sport and hating politicians.
Seriously. Everyone loves a good whinge. There’s nothing people hate more than when the thing they’ve been complaining about gets resolved, thus forcing them to find another gripe outlet. Although let me clarify that this has a gradient. When things that actually need resolving are resolved, that’s okay (holes in ceilings that a gang of intelligent bears keep using to It’s the little, annoying things that we love to complain about that we don’t actually want fixed…like trains running late for example. If the trains ran on time, there goes the conversation starter for everyone commuter everywhere. Instead you have to hit on that pretty little thang (Yes. I said thang. Sorry.) by talking about either sport, politicians you hate or by being racist.
Lists of Things That Make Tom Grumpy (A Mountain Made of Felt).
1. When people walk into the pool (where I work) on a particular quiet day and bust out the always hilarious: “I don’t think there’s any room for me” or other equally gut-busting zingers. Congratulations, you are the first person to ever say that to me. You should quit your job as a dentist/doctor/lawyer/BWM owner and become a stand-up comedian. Just kidding. Eat some nails.
2. Everything about A Current Affair. Everything. Seriously who are you guys kidding? With your dramatic music, sad children, ‘panels of experts’ carrying clipboards while the sit in front of bookshelves and type on computers…I have a suggestion for a story: SOMEONE STOLE ALL OF THE HOURS! WHERE’S YOUR INVESTIGATIVE REPORT ON THAT MRS. GRIMSHORE (SPELLING?)!!!!
3. Christmas decorations in October. Yeah…October. As in today is literally one week into October and I saw a bunch of Santa figurines and red & green wrapping paper before I’d even flipped my calendar over from September to October. Stop making me guilty for buying shit presents so early in the year, Christmas. You get a month to make me feel bad. Stop taking liberties with my emotions! (Although in true hypocritical form, I love the early arrival of hot cross buns, but that’s different because I can’t eat a reindeer coaster…)
4. People who read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ and then post statuses about how they “Luv redin boox now” and that they want to keep reading more ‘boox’. Here, have my copy of Joyce’s ‘Ulysses’. Eat some nails (because after reading this turd wrapped in a nice cover you’re probably into that because, hey S&M is hot if some sexy, billionaire does it but don’t you dare try it on me, mister-not-a-billionaire-with-muscles-and-gosling-face or I will call the cops).
5. People who complain or bitch or moan or whatever about the state of music/film/TV these days. It’s called progression. Yes there are things that I hate about the current trends in said fields, but I move on and go watch/listen to stuff that I like. Bieber isn’t amazing to me. But then again I really don’t think the world would be awesome if Tupac was still alive…Also most of you are like five-years-old. You can’t complain about things until you start making sound effects to accompany bending over and straightening up again (My personal favourite: Hurrrrgrrrrblaaaaahhhh…followed by shallow breathing and sighs).
6. When I run out of things that make me grumpy after only five things so I actually look content with my life…which I am…and therefore completely undermining my entire post. Gonna go eat some nails…
Thanks for joining me on this spleen vent quest. If you have problems with any of the gripes and grumbles I have raised today, may I suggest you go eat nails.
Treed loves all of the animals (but especially the ugly ones that no-one really wants to touch because he understands what it’s like to be fifteen and have braces and Farah Fawcett hair).
*Also the author would like to point out that he understands the concept of Daylight Savings and doesn’t actually think that it is going to affect him cosmically, physically and/or psychologically. You know, unlike all of the people in Western Australia that voted against it because it confused the animals and ruined the crops…*